Читать книгу The Debtor - Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman - Страница 14

The next morning, just before nine o'clock, Anderson was sitting in his office, reading the morning paper. The wind had changed in the night and was blowing from the northwest. The atmosphere was full of a wonderful clearness and freshness. Anderson was conscious of exhilaration. Life assumed a new aspect. New ambitions pressed upon his fancy, new joys seemed to crowd upon his straining vision in culminating vistas of the future. Without fairly admitting it to himself, it had seemed to him as if he had already in a great measure exhausted the possibilities of his own life, as if he had begun to see the bare threads of the warp, as if he had worn out the first glory of the pattern design. Now it was suddenly all different. It looked to him as if he had scarcely begun to live, as if he had not had his first taste of existence. He felt himself a youth. His senses were sharpened, and he got a keen delight from them, which stimulated his spirit like wine. He perceived for the first time a perfume from the green plants in his window-box, which seemed to grow before his eyes and give an odor like the breath of a runner. He heard whole flocks of birds in the sky outside. He distinguished quite clearly one bird-song which he had never heard before. His newspaper rustled with astonishing loudness when he turned the pages, his cigar tasted to an extreme which he had never before noticed. The leaves of the plants and the tree-boughs outside cut the air crisply. His window-shade rattled so loudly that he could not believe it was simply that. A great onslaught of the splendid wind filled the room, and everything waved and sprang as if gaining life. Then suddenly, without the slightest warning, came a shower of the confection known as molasses-peppermints through the door of the office. They are a small, hard candy, and being thrown with vicious emphasis, they rattled upon the bare floor like bullets. One even hit Anderson stingingly upon the cheek. He sprang to his feet and looked out. Nothing was to be seen except the young clerk, standing, gaping and half frightened, yet with a lurking grin. Anderson regarded him with amazement. An idea that he had gone mad flashed through his mind.

“What did you do that for, Sam?” he demanded.

“I didn't do it.”

“Who did?”

“That kid that was in here last night. That Carroll boy. He run in here and flung that candy, and out again, before I could more 'n' see him. Didn't know what were comin'.”

Anderson returned to his office, and as he crossed the threshold heard a duet of laughter from Sam and the older clerk. His feet crushed some of the candy as he resumed his seat. He took up his newspaper, but before he had fairly commenced to read he heard the imperious sound of a girl's voice outside, a quick step, and a dragging one.

“Come right along!” the girl's voice ordered.

“You lemme be!” came a sulky boy's voice in response.

“Not another word!” said the girl's. “Come right along!”

Anderson looked up. Charlotte Carroll was entering, dragging her unwilling little brother after her.

“Come,” said she again. She did not seem to regard Anderson at all. She held her brother's arm with a firm grip of her little, nervous white hand. “Now,” said she to him, “you pick up every one of those molasses-peppermint drops, every single one.”

The boy wriggled defiantly, but she held to him with wonderful strength.

“Right away,” she repeated, “every single one.”

“Let me go, then,” growled the boy, angrily. “How can I pick them up when you are holding me this way?”

The girl with a swift motion swung to the office door in the faces of the two clerks, the grinning roundness of the younger, and the half-abstracted bewilderment of the elder. Then she placed her back against it, and took her hand from her brother's arm. “Now, then, pick them up, every one,” said she.

Without another word the boy got down on his hands and knees and began gathering up the scattered sweets. Anderson had risen to his feet, and stood looking on with a dazed and helpless feeling. Now he spoke, and he realized that his voice sounded weak.

“Really, Miss Carroll,” he said, “I beg—It is of no consequence—” Then he stopped. He did not know what it was all about; he had only a faint idea of not putting any one to the trouble to pick up the débris on his office floor.

Charlotte regarded him as sternly as she had her brother. “Yes, it is of consequence. Papa told him to bring them back and apologize.”

Anderson stared at her, bewildered, while the little boy crawled like a nervous spider around his feet.

“Why bring them back to me?” he queried. For the moment the ex-lawyer forgot that molasses-peppermint balls yielded a part of his revenue, and were offered by him to the public from a glass jar on his shelf. He cast about in his mind as to what he could possibly have to do with those small, hard, brown lollipops rolling about on his office floor.

“You had them in a glass jar,” said Charlotte, in an accusing voice, “right in his way, and—when he came home last night he had them in his pocket, and—papa whipped him very hard. He always does when—My brother is never allowed to take anything that does not belong to him, however unimportant,” she concluded, proudly.

Anderson continued to look at her in a sort of daze.

“No,” she added, severely, “he is not. No matter if he is so young, no more than a child, and a child is very fond of sweets, and—they were left right in his way.”

Anderson looked at her with the vague idea floating through his mind that he owed this sweet, reproachful creature an abject pardon for keeping his molasses-peppermint balls in a glass jar on his own shelf and not locking them away from the lustful eyes of small boys.

“Papa told Eddy that he must bring them back this morning and ask your pardon,” said Charlotte, “and when he came running out of the store I suspected what he had done; and when I found out, I made him come back. Pick up every one, Eddy.”